


Somewhere In-Between

by ThatKanraGirl



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Death, ghosts and shit, implied sex, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 17:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11902152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatKanraGirl/pseuds/ThatKanraGirl
Summary: He didn’t know when exactly he started seeing flashes of Regis after the fall of Insomnia, but he did know that seeing him hurt. A lot.





	Somewhere In-Between

He didn’t know when exactly he started seeing flashes of Regis after the fall of Insomnia, but he did know that seeing him hurt. A lot. At first, he thought he was dreaming. There was a fog about him, not really taking on definition. More like a basic outline. As time went on, however, the shape took on more and more detail, and before Cor knew it, he was regularly coming face to face with the king he knew to be dead. It was only ever for a split second, but it was enough to evoke the emotions that he had tried to keep hidden.

Everywhere Cor went was a reminder of Regis. Those hills? They camped and hunted there for days looking for a specific breed of daemon that was supposed to carry a particular weapon that they both wanted to get their hands on. That river? He and Regis spent hours soaking their tired feet in it while Clarus yelled at them for scaring away the fish. This hotel? They bought a second room for just the two of them, and he had spent all night showing Regis exactly how much he worshipped him from head to toe until all he had left to offer him was his spent, naked body and kisses laced with whispered little nothings.

He distanced himself from everyone. The fear that they would think that Cor the Immortal was losing touch and seeing ghosts was enough to drive him away from reaching out to people the way he knew he probably should. There wasn’t much he did fear; after all, he had stared certain death in the face at the ripe young age of fifteen and lived to tell the tale. But he feared that he wouldn’t be able to protect the ones he loved, the same way he had failed to be there for Regis.

A sharp, distinct sound of footfalls sounded behind him and Cor whipped around. It could have been anything, really. An animal, monster…even a daemon wasn’t unlikely despite how early in the night it was, yet his gut had proved him correct in thinking it was, in fact, another flash of Regis.

“Why?” he growled, mostly out of frustration than anything, then ran, legs carrying him as fast as he could through the trees. Hindsight told him that he should have known better than to travel alone, much less at night, but how was he supposed to show his face? How was he, a weak excuse of a man who ran from the ghosts of his failures, supposed to keep strong in the face of the prince and his posse? How was he supposed to apologize to Regis’s son for being the reason his father was no longer with them?

Cor ducked behind a rock, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. In the distance, he could hear the daemon was Regis’s face hunting him, and he kept his hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his katana. He had to survive, at least, even if there was a part of him that had perished alongside Regis. When he found the gumption to stand again, he rounded back around the rock. Regis’s face stared back at him, as though he had been waiting there for him this entire time. There was no malice, no evil intent that Cor could detect. Still, he kept his guard up.

“You can relax. The daemon can’t see us,” Regis said. There was something distant in his voice, like he wasn’t quite there, but he was trying his best to reach for what he wanted. “You’ve strayed rather far from the light.”

Cor looked over him carefully. His katana shook in his hand and rattled in the sheath as the face of a twenty-five-year-old Regis stared back at him, smiling softly. From the corner of his eye, he watched the daemon prowl around them, unable to hear or see them, as Regis suggested. A slight bit of tension melted away from the edges of Cor’s features.

“Your Majesty…” he whispered, shock settling into his bones and emotion surging through his veins. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. He had to be logical here. Dead kings didn’t come forth from the blue to speak to the living.

“Oh, come now, you know the rules,” Regis laughed a little and stepped closer to him, but stopped when Cor tensed again. “There’s no need to be so formal when it’s just the two of us.” The Marshal sighed, feeling childish even under the scrutiny of the former king’s ghost.

“…Regis…” The younger Regis smiled a little more brightly and reached out, then immediately frowned as Cor winced and adverted his eyes.

“Please, look at me,” he begged, and reached out for him again. This time, Cor didn’t pull away. He didn’t need to. A harsh shiver raced down Cor’s spine as Regis’s had went straight through him, and the feeling left him more empty and cold than he could ever remember being before in his life. Hot tears sprang of his eyes, but he refused to sob, and he concealed his face in his hands, dropping his guard altogether.

“I am so sorry,” Regis apologized, and retracted his hand, unable to wipe Cor’s eyes, or even hold him while he released all of the pain that had been building up since he escaped from the Citadel. “I only wished to give you a proper goodbye.”

“Don’t,” Cor choked. His insides burned, and his breathing was harsh, ragged as he continued to fight against the sobs lodged in his throat. “Don’t go.”

Regis smiled a little then, and placed both of his hands near Cor’s. They pretended they could feel one another, even if it wasn’t the same, and would never be the same again.

“I must, and you should as well. Keep fighting, and know that whatever path you should take I will follow. You must walk tall, my love.”

Whether Cor imagined it, or it was by some miracle he felt it, Regis pried his hands from his face gently and kissed him with the vigor that he had had all those nights ago in the hotel in Taelpar. Cor pressed back, desperate, needy, but before he knew it, the feeling was gone, and Regis along with it. The daemon howled from behind him, and with tears in his eyes, Cor hardened his features and took him down with a scream that could shake fear into even the most fearsome of foes.

Again, Regis was gone too soon. Cor wiped his blade before sheathing it again. Again, he didn’t get to tell him he was sorry. He let his feet carry him back to the road, and then eventually back to the hotel. Again, he buried his face in the pillows and imagined that Regis was there, wondering if maybe he was, and maybe he had gone a little crazy after all.

He’d make for Cape Caem in the morning. He couldn’t apologize to Regis, but he could make his peace with Noctis. It wasn’t the solution he wanted, but he had to stay strong, and he would walk tall in Regis’s stead.


End file.
